


Fragile

by northern_wolf6



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Cyberpunk 2077 Slang, Dum Dum doesn't know what feels are, F/M, Fluff, a bit of angst, but it's just VERY soft Dum Dum trying to deal with emotions, he panics, pre-relic era, somewhere during act 1, vik is here to save the day (as always)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern_wolf6/pseuds/northern_wolf6
Summary: V gets hurt and Dum Dum is... worried. If he only knew what it means.
Relationships: Dum Dum/Female V (Cyberpunk 2077), Dum Dum/V (Cyberpunk 2077)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Fragile

**Author's Note:**

> Have mercy, because I'm terribly weak for Dum Dum. He gave us a whiff when no one else did.   
> Either way, have some FLUFFO with the cyberbaby playin the main role. I imagine, being a part of Maelstrom and Royce's right hand, on the actual verge of cyberpsychosis, Dummy boy has big issues with expressing himself, or even accepting he feels things, like a regular human being.  
> He just needs a hug.

The steel gates leading to ripperdoc’s clinic banged open, smashing loudly into the concrete wall behind it. The noise sent Viktor right to his feet, pushing the wheeled stool back as he stood up abruptly, frown visible over the shaded glasses. His expression switched in the mere seconds, as he realised who interrupted his current patient’s appointment — tensed face going from one of incoming fury, tensing the broad shoulders, straight into a twist of worry and muted question, hanging on the verge of his lips. Quickly understanding the situation, doctor turned to the confused man, who was currently occupying the surgery chair. He excused him with an apologetic smile, while thanking whatever power above that he haven’t yet started carving into the man’s arm, like he was supposed to, just two minutes ago. 

“Delta the fuck out, choom, can’t see it’s an emergency?” a cybernetically reverbed, shaking voice spoke, each syllable sounding more like a growling, resonating machine, than a human. There was an urge in it, though, odd edge, tensing the air around, switching the atmosphere — as the nervous undertone was more or less just unexpected from the newcomer, a man shining of chrome. He stood unsurely in the gateway, and it took a second look to realise, it was not only him; smaller, crooked figure clinged to his side, under the partly metal arm, hidden to the inattentive eye.

“Yeah, yeah, right,” the man sighed, standing up from the surgery chair, shaking his head. “I’ll drop by tomorrow, Vik. If you weren’t the best, you wouldn’t see a single eddie from me.”

With that he left, cursing silently under his breath, the ripperdoc looking after him with a stern, yet grateful stare. When a sound of the gate being slammed close rang through the basement, Viktor rushed to the newcomer’s side, expression unreadable, leaning to scoop up the other side of a curled, smaller creature. Face hidden behind a curtain of messy locks, sticky with sweat and blood and grease, the creature hissed, which soon transformed into a soft, pained whine. Doctor’s features softened at that, if only slightly, pointing with his head to the surgery chair. Two men started moving slowly, and only now, in the dim, red lighting of the clinic, it could be seen that the wounded animal they dragged, barely moved its feet over the floor — they were weak at knees,wobbling, heavy boots trying to take steps, but failing miserably.

As the body was finally placed in the chair, head lulling back and to the side with yet another choked moan, small, girlish face was revealed, bruised and cut in several places, pale and twisted in pain. Catching Viktor’s eyes though, wicked grin was forced, full of bloody teeth, not quite reaching soft, violet globes.

“I’m fine, doc,” V said in a hoarse voice. “Can-boy here is just getting a bit dramatic.” 

“Shut up, you fucking gonk,” mentioned Can-boy snapped, and moved himself nervously to the side of surgery chair, leaning on it and raising metallic fingers to brush off some stray hair sticking to her cheek, movement a bit too strong, not-calculated, nudging the skin; as if he didn’t quite know how much pressure should he put into the gesture. “I scraped you off the pavement before Claws could fucking slice…”

Dum Dum trailed off, as the set of red LED lights behind what could only be assumed as his eye sockets, landed on the half-dried blood, still oozing slowly off her bare side, just underneath the short jacket. Parts of the chrome face twitched oddly, as if grimacing, cold digits fixing the stray locks furiously once again, nudging on the forehead this time. Not looking up, the boy growled towards Viktor, cybernetic reverb making his intentions rather questionable. “Fix it, quick.”

The ripperdoc’s brow quirked slightly upwards, before sighing deeply and moving himself towards nearby table, preparing tools for himself, as well as a thick syringe, filled with gooey, yellowish liquid.

“Mind explaining, at least?” he asked lowly, and with a single smooth move of a leg, kicked closer a wheeled stool he used to occupy. The doctor sat himself comfortably, with a few gentle touches trying to gain access to the oozing wound by V’s side. She was quick to help and shrugged the neon jacket off one shoulder — wincing lightly, to which Dum Dum launched himself forward, pulling at the material with, again, miscalculated pressure. Viktor got to work with steady hands, cleaning the shallow cut; it wasn’t serious, but the placement of it was nasty, soft skin bellow ribs crying out more blood than it should.

“Minx went on a job all by herself, like a dull fucking thing she is,” Dum Dum spat, turning around to pace around the surgery chair, the light of his eyes switching nervously between doctor’s hand and his patient’s face; and if V didn’t know him better, she would never guessed where the gaze of his unreadable optics was landing. She forced a light smile to reassure the Maelstromer — the swollen bottom lip made her look ridiculous and his insides twitched uncomfortably, recalling the circumstances under which the said lip burst.

“Thanks, Dum. Kind as ever.” The girl turned her head to the side, to spit out a lump of blood, much to Viktor’s disgusted grunt; one suggesting she’ll be the one wiping his floor. “It was an easy job, if only the fixer gave me more deets. Didn’t know the place was crowded with Claws.”

“You’re lucky I was around. Woulda chop you, if I didn’t…”

Cybernetic voice trailed off again and V’s curious gaze met with Viktor’s, glancing up towards her. Gentle smile tugged on the corners of old boxer’s mouth and she couldn’t help but breath out abruptly, in an attempt of weak laughter.

“Oh, sweet tin-can, are you perhaps _worried_ about my ole’ ‘ganic ass?” The teasing tone sent the ripperdoc to a full grin, one he quickly hid well with his head hung low above the treated wound. The girl, on the other hand, seemed not ashamed of her evil deeds in the slightest. “Damn, nova. Gotta tell Royce about this one.”

Her gaze burned holes into Dum Dum’s back, which he purposely turned to her now. She noticed the muscles of his partly-silver, scarred back — cables and synthetic muscles twitching underneath a simple, dirty T-shirt, one well-oiled machine that never stopped working, pumping fluids, mechanisms, cogs. His fingers shone in a low light, fists clenching and unclenching, as if fighting something deep, invisible. He stood there, unshaken, as minutes have passed, with V wincing slightly as Viktor started slowly applying stitches; their gaze met again, as if questioning each other at the lack of answer.

…

The ripperdoc have outdone himself, as he always did, V stretching her legs and slowly standing up from the surgery chair not more than an hour later. Viktor disappeared behind a white curtain that graced the back wall, fumbling around the plenty boxes being heard, along with his breathless curses. The girl pulled on her jacket slowly, careful not to tug at new stitches — gentle blush have returned on her cheeks, enveloping light freckles. With a sigh, she brushed her fingers through the dirty hair, making a mental note of taking a shower as soon as she gets home. Grabbing a wet towel the doctor have previously used, she wiped her hands and face, a weak hope of looking at least a little bit more presentable lingering on her heart.

Quick goodbyes with Viktor were exchanged, as soon as he sat back on his regular spot by the desk. V pressed a quick peck to his temple, swearing she’ll pay him back one day — the old boxer mumbled something and waved her off, already enveloped in a fight on his screen; she giggled and limped slightly towards the gate separating the clinic from an outside world.

Dum Dum followed her, grumbling his own goodbyes, but being silent since Viktor treated her wound. His gaze was averting, posture crooked, hands dug deep in the pockets of his loose, grey jeans.

They walked up the stairs in silence, and soon a chilly breeze of the back valley of Misty’s Esoterica hit their noses, white noise of Night City somewhat muted between the dirty buildings, far from the streets. V stopped in her steps to zip up the jacket, stealing a glance towards her chrome friend, who likely paused, copying her movement.

“You’re gonna tell me what’s up, gonk?” She asked, tone playful; yet soft, as if she was about to thread on a thin surface of iced lake. She could feel, or at least suspect, what was it all about; she already learned though, in certain situations, Dum Dum was more like a child than an intimidating Maelstrom member. No urging — giving him a small gateway to face what he thought, express it, only carefully pointing him in the right direction. She nudged his arm with her shoulder lightly, as if to emphasise her words.

Delicate, red light of his optics was lost on a wall behind her, as if it was the most interesting thing Night City could offer. Slightly faded to the merely dim glow, V liked to imagine it as a look of hooded eyes, squinted and focused on something. He chewed on his cheek, earning a quiet, unpleasant, metallic sound.

Minute passed. And then another.

The girl tilted her head slightly, gaze expectant, but not rushing.

“I guess I was, yes. I think.”

“You were what?”

A light groan echoed through the dead end, cybernetic reverb making it inevitably dangerous. No one in the streets heard it though; Little China lived its life as if the two figures, hidden in the shadows, didn’t even exist, neons and music not reaching them. 

“ _Worried_.”

V suppressed a soft smile that threatened to crawl onto her face, not wanting to scare the moment away.

“Why would you? Vik patched me in no time and I’m fine already. Nothing serious.”

Silence, in which she could almost hear the mechanisms in his head, twirling around, working as hard as they could, to the point of overheating.

“You could’ve died. That Tyger could’ve cut deeper. I could’ve find you too late.”

“These are just ifs, Dum, why do you care?”

He finally turned to face her, hands still fiddling in his pockets, restless. She could swear she saw the metal pieces on his forehead tie together in a frown, and were his lips shaking?

“I realised I wouldn’t know what to do if you died. I shouldn’t care, but everything points to the fact that I actually do.” He paused for a moment. “I searched in the web even, fuck. And I think, yeah, I was… worried.” The word fell heavy on his tongue.

Dum Dum searched for her eyes, not sure what to expect. How do _normal_ humans react to such embarrassing confession?

For a split second he was absolutely sure she’s gonna be furious.

But she just leaned in — now, as she didn’t curl down under his arm in pain, they were almost the same height — to place both her palms, still slightly shaking from a stimulant provided by the ripperdoc, on either sides of his face.

They felt warm, he thought. Or maybe it were just his synapses burning, short circuiting his brain.

V raised slightly on her tiptoes, fingers never leaving cold metal of his cheeks, caressing gentle lines that connected one cyberware with another. She mumbled something he didn’t quite catch, but it didn’t matter, because she pressed a soothing kiss onto the chrome carved in his forehead.

Nothing mattered, but her, alive and breathing.


End file.
